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Dream Audio Books presents The Scarlet Pimpernel by baroness or Z,
Chapter eighteen, The Mysterious Device. The day was well advanced
when Marguerite woke, refreshed by her long sleep. Louise had
brought her some fresh milk and a dish of fruit,
and she partook of this frugal breakfast with hearty appetite.
(00:21):
Thoughts crowded thick and fast in her mind as she
munched her grapes, most of them went galloping away after
the tall, erect figure of her husband, whom she had
watched riding out of sight more than five hours ago.
In answer to her eager inquiries, Louise brought back the
news that the groom had come home with Sultan, having
left Sir Percy in London. The groom thought that his
master was about to get on board his schooner, which
(00:43):
was lying off just below London Bridge. Sir Percy had
ridden thus far, had then met Briggs, the skipper of
the day Dream, and had sent the Groom back to
Richmond with Sultan and the empty saddle. This news puzzled
Marguerite more than ever. Where could Sir Percy be going
just now in the day dream on Armand's behalf. He
had said, well, so Percy had influential friends everywhere. Perhaps
(01:05):
he was going to Greenwich or But Marguerite ceased to conjecture.
All would be explained anon. He said that he would
come back, and that he would remember. A long idle
day lay before Marguerite. She was expecting a visit of
her old schoolfellow, Little Suzanne de Durnay. With all the
merry mischief at her command, she had tendered her request
for Suzanne's company to the Comtesse in the presence of
(01:27):
the Prince of Wales last night. His Royal Highness had
loudly applauded the notion and declared that he would give
himself the pleasure of calling on the two ladies in
the course of the afternoon. The Comtesse had not dared
to refuse, and then and there was entrapped into a
promise to send little Suzanne to spend a long and
happy day at Richmond with her friend. Marguerite expected her eagerly.
(01:48):
She longed for a chat about old school days with
the child. She felt that she would prefer Suzanne's company
to that of any one else, and together they would
roam through the fine old garden and rich deer park
or stroll along the river. But Suzanne had not come yet,
and Marguerite, being dressed, prepared to go downstairs. She looked
quite a girl this morning, in her simple muslin frock,
(02:08):
with a broad blue sash round her slim waist, and
the dainty cross over fichu into which at her bosom
she had fastened a few late Crimson roses. She crossed
the landing outside her own suite of apartments and stood
still for a moment at the head of the fine
oak staircase which led to the lower floor. On her
left were her husband's apartments, a suite of rooms which
(02:28):
she practically never entered. They consisted of bedroom, dressing and
reception room, and at the extreme end of the landing
of a small study, which, when Sir Percy did not
use it was always kept locked. His own special and
confidential valet Frank had charge of this room. No one
was ever allowed to go inside. My lady had never
cared to do so, and the other servants had, of
(02:49):
course not dared to break this hard and fast rule.
Marguerite had often with that good natured contempt which she
had recently adopted towards her husband, chaffed him about this
secrecy which surrounded his private study. Laughingly, she had always
declared that he strictly excluded all prying eyes from his sanctum,
for fear they should detect how very little study went
on within its four walls. A comfortable arm chair for
(03:10):
Sir Percy's sweet slumbers was, no doubt its most conspicuous
piece of furniture. Marguerite thought of all this on this
bright October morning as she glanced along the corridor. Frank
was evidently busy with his master's rooms, for most of
the door stood open, that of the study, amongst the others.
A sudden, burning, childish curiosity seized her to have a
peep at Sir Percy's sanctum. This restriction, of course, did
(03:32):
not apply to her, and Frank would, of course not
dare to oppose her. Still, she hoped that the valet
would be busy on one of the other rooms, that
she might have that one quick peep, in secret and unmolested.
Gently on tiptoe she crossed the landing, and, like Bluebeard's wife,
trembling half with excitement and wonder, she paused for a
moment on the threshold, strangely perturbed and irresolute. The door
(03:55):
was ajar and she could not see anything within. She
pushed it open tentatively. There was no sound. Frank was
evidently not there, and she walked boldly in. At once
she was struck by the severe simplicity of everything around her.
The dark and heavy hangings, the massive oak furniture, the
one or two maps on the wall, in no way
recalled to her mind the lazy man about town, the
(04:17):
lover of race courses, the dandified leader of fashion. That
was the outward representation of Sir Percy Blakeney. There was
no sign here at any rate of hurried departure. Everything
was in its place. Not a scrap of paper lit
at the floor, not a cupboard or drawer was left open.
The curtains were drawn aside and through the window. The
fresh morning air was streaming in. Facing the window and
(04:38):
well into the center of the room, stood a ponderous
business like desk, which looked as if it had seen
much service. On the wall to the left of the desk,
reaching almost from floor to ceiling, was a large, full
length portrait of a woman, magnificently framed exquisitely painted and
signed with the name of Bouchet. It was Percy's mother.
Marguerite knew very little about her, except that she had
(04:58):
died abroad, ailing and body as well as in mind,
while Percy was still a lad. She must have been
a very beautiful woman once when Bouchet painted her, and
as Marguerite looked at the portrait, she could not but
be struck by the extraordinary resemblance which must have existed
between mother and son. There was the same low, square
forehead crowned with thick, fair hair, smooth and heavy, the
(05:19):
same deep set, somewhat lazy blue eyes beneath firmly marked
straight brows, And in those eyes there was the same
intensity behind that apparent laziness, the same latent passion which
used to light up Percy's face in the olden days
before his marriage, and which Marguerite had again noted last
night at dawn, when she had come quite close to
him and had allowed a note of tenderness to creep
(05:40):
into her voice. Marguerite studied the portrait, for it interested her.
After that, she turned and looked again at the ponderous desk.
It was covered with a mass of papers, all neatly
tied and docketed, which looked like accounts and receipts, arrayed
with perfect method. It had never before struck Marguerite, nor
had she alas found it worthwhile to inquire as to
(06:01):
how Sir Percy, whom all the world had credited with
a total lack of brains, administered the vast fortune which
his father had left him. Since she had entered this
neat orderly room, she had been taken so much by
surprise that this obvious proof of her husband's strong business
capacities did not cause her more than a passing thought
of wonder. But it also strengthened her in the now
certain knowledge that, with his worldly inanities, his foppish ways,
(06:24):
and foolish talk, he was not only wearing a mask,
but was playing a deliberate and studied part. Marguerite wondered, again,
why should he take all this trouble? Why should he,
who was obviously a serious earnest man, wish to appear
before his fellow men as an empty headed incompoop. He
may have wished to hide his love for a wife
who held him in contempt, but surely such an object
(06:47):
could have been gained, at less sacrifice, and with far
less trouble than constant incessant acting of an unnatural part.
She looked round her quite aimlessly. Now she was horribly
puzzled and a nameless dread. Before all, this strange, unac
countable mystery had begun to seize upon her. She felt
cold and uncomfortable. Suddenly, in the severe and dark room,
there were no pictures on the wall save the fine
(07:08):
Bouchet portrait, only a couple of maps, both of parts
of France, one of the north coast and the other
of the environs of Paris. What did Sir Percy want
with those? She wondered. Her head began to ache. She
turned away from this strange Bluebeard's chamber, which she had entered,
and which she did not understand. She did not wish
Frank to find her here, and with a fast look round,
(07:30):
she once more turned to the door. As she did so,
her foot knocked against a small object which had apparently
been lying close to the desk on the carpet, and
which now went rolling right across the room. She stooped
to pick it up. It was a solid gold ring
with a flat shield, on which was engraved a small device.
Marguerite turned it over in her fingers and then studied
(07:51):
the engraving on the shield. It represented a small star
shaped flower, of a shape she had seen so distinctly
twice before, once at the opera and once at Lord
Grenville's boor. End of chapter eighteen. Dream Audiobooks hopes you
have enjoyed this program.
Dream Audio Books presents The Scarlet Pimpernel by baroness or Z,
Chapter eighteen, The Mysterious Device. The day was well advanced
when Marguerite woke, refreshed by her long sleep. Louise had
brought her some fresh milk and a dish of fruit,
and she partook of this frugal breakfast with hearty appetite.
(00:21):
Thoughts crowded thick and fast in her mind as she
munched her grapes, most of them went galloping away after
the tall, erect figure of her husband, whom she had
watched riding out of sight more than five hours ago.
In answer to her eager inquiries, Louise brought back the
news that the groom had come home with Sultan, having
left Sir Percy in London. The groom thought that his
master was about to get on board his schooner, which
(00:43):
was lying off just below London Bridge. Sir Percy had
ridden thus far, had then met Briggs, the skipper of
the day Dream, and had sent the Groom back to
Richmond with Sultan and the empty saddle. This news puzzled
Marguerite more than ever. Where could Sir Percy be going
just now in the day dream on Armand's behalf. He
had said, well, so Percy had influential friends everywhere. Perhaps
(01:05):
he was going to Greenwich or But Marguerite ceased to conjecture.
All would be explained anon. He said that he would
come back, and that he would remember. A long idle
day lay before Marguerite. She was expecting a visit of
her old schoolfellow, Little Suzanne de Durnay. With all the
merry mischief at her command, she had tendered her request
for Suzanne's company to the Comtesse in the presence of
(01:27):
the Prince of Wales last night. His Royal Highness had
loudly applauded the notion and declared that he would give
himself the pleasure of calling on the two ladies in
the course of the afternoon. The Comtesse had not dared
to refuse, and then and there was entrapped into a
promise to send little Suzanne to spend a long and
happy day at Richmond with her friend. Marguerite expected her eagerly.
(01:48):
She longed for a chat about old school days with
the child. She felt that she would prefer Suzanne's company
to that of any one else, and together they would
roam through the fine old garden and rich deer park
or stroll along the river. But Suzanne had not come yet,
and Marguerite, being dressed, prepared to go downstairs. She looked
quite a girl this morning, in her simple muslin frock,
(02:08):
with a broad blue sash round her slim waist, and
the dainty cross over fichu into which at her bosom
she had fastened a few late Crimson roses. She crossed
the landing outside her own suite of apartments and stood
still for a moment at the head of the fine
oak staircase which led to the lower floor. On her
left were her husband's apartments, a suite of rooms which
(02:28):
she practically never entered. They consisted of bedroom, dressing and
reception room, and at the extreme end of the landing
of a small study, which, when Sir Percy did not
use it was always kept locked. His own special and
confidential valet Frank had charge of this room. No one
was ever allowed to go inside. My lady had never
cared to do so, and the other servants had, of
(02:49):
course not dared to break this hard and fast rule.
Marguerite had often with that good natured contempt which she
had recently adopted towards her husband, chaffed him about this
secrecy which surrounded his private study. Laughingly, she had always
declared that he strictly excluded all prying eyes from his sanctum,
for fear they should detect how very little study went
on within its four walls. A comfortable arm chair for
(03:10):
Sir Percy's sweet slumbers was, no doubt its most conspicuous
piece of furniture. Marguerite thought of all this on this
bright October morning as she glanced along the corridor. Frank
was evidently busy with his master's rooms, for most of
the door stood open, that of the study, amongst the others.
A sudden, burning, childish curiosity seized her to have a
peep at Sir Percy's sanctum. This restriction, of course, did
(03:32):
not apply to her, and Frank would, of course not
dare to oppose her. Still, she hoped that the valet
would be busy on one of the other rooms, that
she might have that one quick peep, in secret and unmolested.
Gently on tiptoe she crossed the landing, and, like Bluebeard's wife,
trembling half with excitement and wonder, she paused for a
moment on the threshold, strangely perturbed and irresolute. The door
(03:55):
was ajar and she could not see anything within. She
pushed it open tentatively. There was no sound. Frank was
evidently not there, and she walked boldly in. At once
she was struck by the severe simplicity of everything around her.
The dark and heavy hangings, the massive oak furniture, the
one or two maps on the wall, in no way
recalled to her mind the lazy man about town, the
(04:17):
lover of race courses, the dandified leader of fashion. That
was the outward representation of Sir Percy Blakeney. There was
no sign here at any rate of hurried departure. Everything
was in its place. Not a scrap of paper lit
at the floor, not a cupboard or drawer was left open.
The curtains were drawn aside and through the window. The
fresh morning air was streaming in. Facing the window and
(04:38):
well into the center of the room, stood a ponderous
business like desk, which looked as if it had seen
much service. On the wall to the left of the desk,
reaching almost from floor to ceiling, was a large, full
length portrait of a woman, magnificently framed exquisitely painted and
signed with the name of Bouchet. It was Percy's mother.
Marguerite knew very little about her, except that she had
(04:58):
died abroad, ailing and body as well as in mind,
while Percy was still a lad. She must have been
a very beautiful woman once when Bouchet painted her, and
as Marguerite looked at the portrait, she could not but
be struck by the extraordinary resemblance which must have existed
between mother and son. There was the same low, square
forehead crowned with thick, fair hair, smooth and heavy, the
(05:19):
same deep set, somewhat lazy blue eyes beneath firmly marked
straight brows, And in those eyes there was the same
intensity behind that apparent laziness, the same latent passion which
used to light up Percy's face in the olden days
before his marriage, and which Marguerite had again noted last
night at dawn, when she had come quite close to
him and had allowed a note of tenderness to creep
(05:40):
into her voice. Marguerite studied the portrait, for it interested her.
After that, she turned and looked again at the ponderous desk.
It was covered with a mass of papers, all neatly
tied and docketed, which looked like accounts and receipts, arrayed
with perfect method. It had never before struck Marguerite, nor
had she alas found it worthwhile to inquire as to
(06:01):
how Sir Percy, whom all the world had credited with
a total lack of brains, administered the vast fortune which
his father had left him. Since she had entered this
neat orderly room, she had been taken so much by
surprise that this obvious proof of her husband's strong business
capacities did not cause her more than a passing thought
of wonder. But it also strengthened her in the now
certain knowledge that, with his worldly inanities, his foppish ways,
(06:24):
and foolish talk, he was not only wearing a mask,
but was playing a deliberate and studied part. Marguerite wondered, again,
why should he take all this trouble? Why should he,
who was obviously a serious earnest man, wish to appear
before his fellow men as an empty headed incompoop. He
may have wished to hide his love for a wife
who held him in contempt, but surely such an object
(06:47):
could have been gained, at less sacrifice, and with far
less trouble than constant incessant acting of an unnatural part.
She looked round her quite aimlessly. Now she was horribly
puzzled and a nameless dread. Before all, this strange, unac
countable mystery had begun to seize upon her. She felt
cold and uncomfortable. Suddenly, in the severe and dark room,
there were no pictures on the wall save the fine
(07:08):
Bouchet portrait, only a couple of maps, both of parts
of France, one of the north coast and the other
of the environs of Paris. What did Sir Percy want
with those? She wondered. Her head began to ache. She
turned away from this strange Bluebeard's chamber, which she had entered,
and which she did not understand. She did not wish
Frank to find her here, and with a fast look round,
(07:30):
she once more turned to the door. As she did so,
her foot knocked against a small object which had apparently
been lying close to the desk on the carpet, and
which now went rolling right across the room. She stooped
to pick it up. It was a solid gold ring
with a flat shield, on which was engraved a small device.
Marguerite turned it over in her fingers and then studied
(07:51):
the engraving on the shield. It represented a small star
shaped flower, of a shape she had seen so distinctly
twice before, once at the opera and once at Lord
Grenville's boor. End of chapter eighteen. Dream Audiobooks hopes you
have enjoyed this program.
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